Few would deny that digging into the ground of the 28th state would yield anything less than red, white, and blue dirt, so rolling into this part of the country on anything other than a Harley can feel a little like going to a cross-stitch party without any needles. That is until you approach a town whose welcome sign says, “Willkommen.” You immediately know you are not in Kansas anymore . . . and perhaps not even in Texas!
Fredericksburg silences the sights and sounds of cowboys and country music, and it replaces them with oompah bands and gingerbread-style architecture. Suddenly, our Bavarian Motor Works machines perk up as if they are returning to the fatherland.
Things get even stranger, in a good way, as we travel through time to a 1940’s style hotel built to duplicate an airplane shelter. The Hangar Hotel is complete with parking for the flying machines and has big band music playing 24 hours a day. We ride back to East Main Street for a traditional “Abendessen” (dinner) of purple pickled cabbage, German potato salad, and Jaegerschnitzel at Der Lindenbaum restaurant.
Many visitors come to Texas Hill Country in the spring when deep blue (almost purple) tulip-shaped Bluebell flowers drape the landscape like a blanket. Arriving in August, accompanied by 100 degree days, makes any type of blanket seem most impractical! The trade-off is minimal traffic, which makes the terrain of Texas Hill Country much more enjoyable ... as we are about to find out.